


One Romantic Night

by AutumnRain



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-04
Updated: 2012-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 03:48:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnRain/pseuds/AutumnRain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Dave Strider, and your significant other is the living example of the saying "It's the thought that counts".</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Romantic Night

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a headcanon by the tumblr user Pyrates :)

Your name is Dave Strider, and your eyelids are slowly becoming heavier and heavier on your drive back home. When you arrive home, you keep hitting the key everywhere except in the lock. You mumble a few curse words, trying to wake yourself up so you can finally go to the bathroom. You really should have just gone at the office. Stepping inside, you shrug off your coat and hang it up on the coat rack. You pull off your shoes and place them next to John's.

You can faintly smell tonight's dinner; grilled chicken with spaghetti, a side of salad, and if you're not mistaken, a chocolate cake. You raise an eyebrow at the thought of John making cakes. Even the lights in the living room and foyer are dimmed. A panicky feeling sets in as you quickly rack your brain for important dates; tonight isn't your anniversary, your birthday or his. You slightly calm down, now sure that today isn't a special day. You start for the kitchen, but you're stopped by the loud crunching sound of something beneath your feet. Looking down, you realize that the floor is littered with dead rose petals, but they seemingly form a line down the hallway to your right. You start to follow the trail of deceased plant matter, stepping cautiously as to not make any noise or make the mess even worse. You look around you, incase this is all just an odd prank for John to jump out of a closet or room down the hallway and scare the living shit out of you. Even if your childhood was mostly spent on guard around your apartment, for fear of Lil' Cal appearing out of thin air and scaring you half to death, you still cannot handle things popping up before you.

Walking past the couch, you see that a book lays half-open on the arm. Little paper spikes on the inside fold of the book tell you that a page has been torn out. At this point, you're not sure whether to be confused, scared, or excited. You continue down the path, which ultimately leads to the bathroom. Great, you think, just what I needed. Maybe John took note of how you always go straight to the bathroom when you get home from work, and decided to spice up your walk. How unironically adorable. You happily swing the door open, ready to finally relieve yourself, when you suddenly find yourself in the midst of some alone time between your significant other and, well, himself, lying on his side, propped up by his elbow, holding a glass of wine. And holy shit, that's a lot of fucking bubbles. They're overflowing, spilling over the porcelain edge of the bath that's lined with the scented candles that you received from Rose last Christmas.

You don't even know what to say at first. You're a bit embarrassed, obviously intruding upon something. "Am I interrupting your special alone time, John?" You finally say with a cocky smile.

His face turns a bright red, and he quickly sits up. "No, you ass!" He turns his head, and you focus on the bubbles that slide down his glistening skin. "I read that things like this are a nice thing to do for your partner," he quietly says into his glass of wine. "I mean, with you working so late recently, we haven't spent much time together."

Oh. Oh. You're honestly flattered, and you feel a little flutter inside your stomach thinking about this whole production he's put on.

But goddamn do you have to piss.

"Okay, John, close your eyes. I really need to pee."

John laughs and looks at you, a jovial smile playing on his face. "It's not like I haven't seen you naked before, dummy."

"Look it's not the same. Just close your eyes for a second."

He sighs and complies, crossing his arms. He starts counting, as if when he reaches a certain number he's going to open his eyes.

You take one step forward, and before you even know what's going on, you're facing the pink tiled wall above the tub and it is coming full force toward you. The two of you soon slam together, your forehead reaching it first and breaking the severity of the blow for the rest of your face. Your right arm splashes into the boiling hot water, your left awkwardly fitting between your face and the water. A striking pain splits across your head, and you wonder for second if you've fractured your skull.

"Dave!" John yells, frantically trying to resolve the problem. You feel his hands on your shoulders, trying to flip you over. He's halfway there when you feel a slight burning sensation on your leg. If all your muscles weren't screaming in pain, you'd lift your head to see what it is, but even your head feels like mush. You start to hear and understand less and less, feeling the grasp of reality loosening its grip on you. The last thing you hear is John yelling obscenities and the hot water splashing against your face.

You wake up however much longer in the arms of your partner, who is cradling you in a warm embrace with a blanket. A bag of ice being pressed to your forehead. The smell of his body wash fills your nostrils and sends waves of calmness down your body. Muscles shift beneath you like tectonic plates. Seems like your dashing prince has realized your conciseness.

"Dave, you're awake!" He breathes. He cups your face and plants a kiss on your nose and cheek. "Dave, I'm so sorry, really. I didn't mean for that to happen. Oh god, your pants and shirt were totally ruined, I feel horrible, really, really horrible. I'll buy you a new pair of pants and shirt I promise! Dave, please don't hate me."

"Jeez, Egbert, you really are a romance repellent," you comment. You have to stifle a laugh at the whole situation.

He whimpers, obviously not taking your remark as a way of saying that everything is okay, and kisses you again.


End file.
